Tempus Fugit
by JadeWriter28
Summary: Jack wasn't always a US Marshal, and after Nathan resets time, Jack decides the past can't always stay there.
1. Chapter 1

**August 20, 2008 - Langley, VA - 2:24 AM**

"Carter. Can't say I expected to hear your voice again."

It was after 2am and Andrew Monroe, Deputy Director of the CIA's Special Activities Division, had almost made it home less than 20 hours after he left. It really would be a novel experience. He'd shut his computers down for the night, even made it as far as hitting the light switch. Now he was back at his desk, waiting patiently to hear why Jack Carter was suddenly ruining his nights again. Listening to the sigh over the phone, he could almost see Jack rubbing the back of his neck, the way he always did when he was over-thinking something.

"I need a favor. Clearance. Sort of."

"Sounds like an issue for the Marshal Service," Monroe said, waiting to hear more of an explanation. When Jack left, he did so of his own accord, claiming secretive, bureaucratic bullshit was making him prematurely gray. There had been a lot of speculation as to the real reason, with secrecy seeming the least likely, but Monroe suspected the only one who really knew that answer was Jack. Jack, who had proved more than once that if he didn't feel like talking, he certainly wasn't going to.

"DOD actually. I'm out of scope and over some heads on this one. I was also a bit bored as a marshal, I'd have expected you to know that." There was no smile in Jack's voice, but from the delivery, it was easy to tell there was supposed to be.

"I don't have time to babysit your ass, Carter. There are flags, you haven't triggered them." They had been triggered actually, which is why Monroe was still indulging this conversation. It had been just over two years since Jack Carter's Marshal file had been marked inactive, and just as long since any other information had popped up. Not that it mattered. Jack was considered surprisingly low-threat, despite all the information that was likely still floating around in his head. Still, with a paper-trail so non-existent even the Agency couldn't have hidden him better, Monroe had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity.

"Crappy flags." There was silence over the phone, but it was tense enough that Monroe knew to wait for whatever was coming next. "I need my file restored."

Only years of concealing his opinions and reactions kept Monroe from rolling his eyes. Of course he needed his file restored. Not too many people leaving the Agency requested, or practically demanded, that their educational history was wiped from existence. Why would they? It made no sense. It had left Monroe with the distinct impression that Jack would turn into one of those poor crazy bastards who retired and spent the rest of his life alone in the woods or lived out their time as the quirky neighborhood recluse. Then he'd gone and joined the Marshals. Granted, he had always been more action than academic, but his love of learning and the incredible ease with which he did so had served him well over the years. Though how he did it, Monroe would never know. He'd barely survived the four years it took him to finish one degree. No paycheck, no saved lives, not a damn thing could have made Monroe spend an extra decade of his life in college, cover be damned. But Jack? Well, the little part of Monroe's brain that hadn't suspected Jack would go bat shit insane, that part knew this day was coming. People that smart could only let so many brain cells atrophy before they couldn't take it anymore.

"Where are you, Jack?" The answer was slow enough in coming that Monroe actually wondered if he was going to get one.

"Eureka."

"Eur… Jesus, Jack. That makes no… How did you even find Eureka? That town is so classified I'm not sure the President has directions to get there." Eureka. Well, wasn't that a recipe for disaster. Jack had to know they were probably capable of digging up more of his history than he'd like. If they hadn't already. Monroe wasn't sure Agency monitors were capable of picking up Eureka's actions. He knew only the smallest bit about the town, but he knew the word impossible didn't make it into their overly-extensive dictionary. "More importantly, why are you there?" The missing, because you no longer have the qualifications to work there, hung silently at the end of his question.

"I'm the Sheriff," Jack stated as though it should be obvious, and Monroe ran his hands over his face, shifting slightly to turn his coffee maker back on. He had a feeling this was going to be a long call.

**August 19, 2008 - Eureka - 5:58 PM**

When Nathan was offered the position as Director of GD, the opportunity to return seemed like a sign, like his life had come full circle somehow. He had traveled, lived, loved, and somehow still ended up at home, in Eureka with his family. So, like any logical, calculating man of science, he made a plan. He was going to win back Ally's affection. Make her see that busy schedules were part of life, not an insurmountable obstacle. Explain, perhaps a bit more patiently than last time, that committed did not mean dead, and he would occasionally glance at a shapely ass passing him by. Enjoy more time with Kevin in his life. Far more than a phone call each week, the duration of which was spent hoping to get one or two words from the boy. Maybe even convince Ally to try for another child since he'd always wanted a daughter. He was going to have his family and his job, and life was going to be simple and happy.

Then he met Jack Carter. Slowly but surely, Nathan couldn't help falling for the stubborn, obnoxious, dim-witted, too sharp for his own good, Sheriff who made his life hell on a daily basis. Not that he would ever say so out loud. No, he wasn't in his 20's any more or even his 30's, he was 40, and he needed to focus on his family, not some ill-conceived attempt to turn the very vanilla everyman into his lover.

He had a plan. Even if the paperwork, and the meetings, and the phone briefings, and the god damn monotony of it all kept him hovering just this side of crazy. Even when he desperately missed the 20 hour days in the lab, being so wrapped up in his work he barely knew what day of the week it was, never mind what time he needed to be in a teleconference. Even though all he wanted was to create a few of his own disasters instead of cleaning up someone else's. No, he had a plan. A good plan.

Standing in the chamber, watching Jack watch him, his heart broke with the knowledge that he'd been wrong. He would trade his plan, he would trade it all for five more minutes with his sheriff. He tried to conjure up an image of Allison, mind failing in the task. As much as he loved her, there was no passion left in their relationship, only a long and tangled history. Even as he heard his own voice saying he was doing it for Ally and for Kevin, he knew it was a lie. He was doing this for Jack. Between his multiple traversals through spacetime and the stacking layers of damage to his body, there was absolutely no chance Jack would survive the time shift. Himself, well, he figured his odds were about fifty-fifty. And if survival resulted in another fifty-fifty shot of dematerialization, well those were the breaks. This was Eureka, he could round out the trifecta with one more fifty-fifty that someone would realize what had happened to him. No matter how you looked at it, he had better odds than Jack. And Jack had to live. There was no other choice.

"See you around, Jack."

**August 19, 2008 - Eureka - 6 PM**

Jack felt his chest constrict, even before Fargo's whoop of joy had registered, grappling with a pain he hadn't felt in years. He didn't need an IQ higher than 111 to know that Nathan had been lying. Of course he could have done it, anyone could set a clock. He just hadn't been fast enough to beat Nathan to the chamber. Not with all the damage he'd taken coming through the loops. Guilt slammed into guilt as he realized he hadn't actually thought Nathan had it in him to sacrifice himself. And Nathan was smart enough to have calculated the odds before he stepped into that chamber. Damnit! It was his job to protect Eureka. His, not Nathans!

It didn't seem to matter where he went, he was always losing someone.

As the particles swirled in his vision, and Fargo's pained yells for Dr. Stark echoed through the time lab, Jack barely had time to be surprised by his own reaction before the darkness closed in on him. The last thing he remembered was Nathan's voice, garbled through the darkness, _I just hope you'll be seeing me, too._


	2. Chapter 2

**September 18, 1986 - Los Angeles - 3:30 PM**

"Jack! Concentrate! You'll never get in with your GPA, you need to ace this test."

"Well, what do I want to go to Caltech for anyway? You're the Science gal, not me." Jack said, tossing his SAT study guide aside and pulling Angela into his lap. "Seems a bit fancy for a US Marshal in the making."

"But you don't even try!" She argued, poking him in the gut and rolling back to the side to get his book. "Really, it's insulting. You'd probably be the smartest person in school if only you'd stop napping all through the classes you bother to show up for."

Jack snorted. Caltech. Why on earth would he want to go to school there? Sure, Angie would be there, but the classes would be five times harder and Pasadena wasn't really all that far away. "Aw, come on Angie," he said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit self consciously, "I'm not that bad." She shook her head, and Jack pulled her to her feet, not waiting for the lecture he knew would follow.

"Come on, Miss Caltech. I owe you a driving lesson."

**August 19, 2008 - Eureka - 6:06 PM**

"Easy, Sheriff."

Jack blinked, taking in his surroundings. Time Lab, Stark. Shit. He struggled to get his feet underneath him, injuries finally taking their toll, head swimming with garbled images of the past and present. When had the doctor arrived? "We need to get you up to the infirmary." He shook his head, wincing at the pressure it created. He needed to check for radiation, now, before any more time went by. He needed to find Allison and tell her that he had broken his promise, that he wasn't going to get Nathan to their wedding on time. That Nathan wasn't going to make it to their wedding at all. He moved again, forcing his legs to stand, only to be pushed back into a chair by Dr. Mitchell. "Really, Sheriff. You're bleeding internally and clearly concussed."

"Fargo!" Jack snapped, ignoring the spots slowly clearing from his vision and the impatient doctor hovering over his shoulder. "I need…" he coughed, catching the blood on his sleeve. "Stark said we'd need to check for radiation if the clock was manually synced. Uh, the Cherry Cough stuff," he fudged, scrunching up his nose for effect. He hadn't had time to think about the implications of the radiation but there would be time for that later. First, he needed to know if it was present or not. He checked his impatience and watched Fargo frown, waiting for the man to catch up.

"Cherenkov Radiation?" He asked, eyes flicking between the Sheriff and the chamber, "But why? That doesn't make any sense. The photon was… and how?"

"There's a project," Jack said, scrambling to remember something useful. "Dr. Wilson, maybe." Wilson was a guess at best, even he couldn't remember which scientist was responsible for every project in this disaster magnet. Thankfully, Fargo's eyes lit up, letting him know he'd been close enough.

"Of course. The MRIU. But, if-"

"Now, Fargo!"

"Sheriff, if Dr. Fargo does what you're asking will you go up to the infirmary with me?" Dr. Mitchell interrupted, reminding Jack that he still had other responsibilities to attend to. He glanced back to Fargo but he was already on his way out the door, hopefully up to Dr. Wilson's lab.

"No. I have to get to Allison. I have to tell her," he stopped abruptly, having no clue what exactly it was he would say to her. It wasn't the first time he'd had this conversation. Had to tell someone that he lost the person he'd promised to keep safe. No, it seemed like he had this conversation far too often, but somehow this time felt infinitely worse. He stood again, ignoring the flustered doctor next to him and making his way out the door. There would be time for everything else later, first he had to see Allison.

The drive seemed to drag on, and Jack did his best to ignore the pain spreading throughout his body, focusing on thoughts of spacetime and dissolving green eyes. The easiest answer was that Stark had simply been deleted from existence, the quickest conclusion to come to given the limited practical information on the subject. But what if he hadn't been deleted? The loop closed when the photon returned to its natural state. But if Stark was affected inside the chamber and hadn't started from a decelerated state… If he had accelerated past the speed of light… Which could mean that they should still be looking for time anomalies. Stark could still be alive. Or dead but not deleted. Crap. That was why he had mentioned the Cherenkov radiation. First Allison, then Henry. He'd make it to the infirmary at some point.

**July 20, 2006 - Los Angeles - 4:15 PM**

"With his recommendation, your security classification and pay level will increase, effective immediately," Agent Hicks said, and Jack felt his spine stiffen at the mention. He'd become a Marshal without any hiccups, and switching over to the DOD could be detrimental to his happiness. Especially since he hadn't been looking for a reassignment, promotion or otherwise, and his security clearance was just fine as it was.

"Security classification?" Jack asked, unsure he really wanted to deal with the answer.

"In order to assign you as Sheriff of Eureka, it'll need to be bumped up a grade." Agent Miller supplied as Jack tensed further. He didn't like talking about his past and living in a town full of government scientists left far too many opportunities to slip-up. He'd gone out of his way to cut science out of his life, and he didn't see any reason why that should change now. "You start on Monday. They've already started the paperwork, but there were quite a few-"

"It was redacted for a reason," Jack said, tension turning to temper quickly. He had no clue what was going on. His marriage was a failure, his daughter was a felon, his job was giving him a migraine, and his life was spiraling out of control faster than he knew what to do with. The accident in St. Petersburg had been a tipping point for him, feeling like he'd seen science do more harm than good. He turned in his resignation and said goodbye to the decade spent on a guilt-driven dream. He joined the Marshals, attaining the goal he's set as a young boy, and found he was pretty darn good at the job. It was a job he could retire in.

"And I'm told it will stay that way. Boss did say he was as confused as he was impressed though. Both are pretty rare emotions for him." Jack could feel them sizing him up, wondering what their boss knew that they didn't. They weren't the only ones. He'd love to know what exactly their boss had dredged up too, because he didn't think anything in his past painted him as a small town sheriff, even if the whole damn town was a giant science experiment. He wasn't a scientist, or a sheriff. He was a federal agent.

"I'm good at my job," Jack answered, but only his supervisor took it for the protest that it was.

"Relax, Carter. It's a promotion. Congratulations."


End file.
